


In The Rough

by theskywasblue



Category: Wild Adapter
Genre: Gen, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-07
Updated: 2010-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-10 10:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The most precious things aren't always obvious</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Rough

_~You said you fell while holding diamonds in your hands; “It’s your fault for running holding diamonds,” I said~_

He leans over the balcony, blows smoke out in a long, hot stream. The railing is sort of loose under his hands, like the ties are rotting in the concrete, and he wonders how long it will be before he leans against it and tumbles to the street below, where he can seen the cars crawling like neon ants.

The night smells like rain. On the balcony across the way someone has left their laundry out and it sways back and forth in the wind like a drunk man on an uneven sidewalk.

Kubota thinks of his own laundry, packed tight into the hamper. His memory is slip-shod where it’s concerned – he could wear the same shirt for days on end and not think about it. He needs Tokitoh to look at him, wrinkle up his nose and murmur _”Kubo-chan..._"; then, to placate him, _”I’m outta clean socks,”_ as if he hasn’t noticed the musky-sour scent of old sweat and the bitter reek of stale cigarettes.

Of course, Tokitoh needs to be walked through the basics of running the washing machine every single time, and the lint trap in the drier frustrates him, but he has to count the socks before they go into the machine, afraid of one coming out the other side without its mate, so neither one of them is ever subjected to the mundane task of doing the laundry alone.

Kubota likes the smell of fabric softener, although he never uses it himself; sweet and warm and faintly chemical.

He hasn’t even begun to figure things out completely yet. To tell the truth, sometimes he’s afraid to ask the questions he knows need to be answered. After all, no one asked questions when he carried a boy, nearly dead, home over his shoulder.

Sometimes he thinks it might be a blessing that Tokitoh doesn’t have the answers. Although it’s not as if he believes in something as childish as God.

Truth, he’s discovering, is a diamond in the rough, or maybe the tiny grain of sand on the inside of a pearl.

“Kubo-chan?” Tokitoh steps out onto the balcony, barefoot and rubbing his eyes. His shirt is wrinkled and Kubota knows it will smell of sleep-sweat and curry powder. “What’re you doin’ out here?”

“Smoking.”

“You can smoke inside,” Tokitoh leans on the railing so his shoulder touches Kubota’s, yawns, “railing’s loose.”

“Mmmm,” Kubota nods, “I know.”

Neither of them stop leaning on it. Tokitoh rests his head on his arms, closes his eyes. Kubota can hear him breathing over the wind, slow and easy.

The formation of a natural diamond requires very specific conditions, which can only be met in two places on Earth. They are the hardest natural material known to man. Men kill for them, in backwater countries that Kubota has only seen on maps; women, as he’s been made to understand, fall over backwards for him. They are precious, uniquely valuable.

“Tokitoh...do you like diamonds?”

“Huh?” he tips his chin, looks up, bemused and still a little sleepy, “What are you talking about Kubo-chan?”

Kubota smiles. The most precious things, he thinks, aren’t always obvious. “Nevermind.”

-End-


End file.
